


Snow on the Locket

by blackberrychai



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Banter, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Hapivain Agenda™, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Light Angst, Mystery, Post-Canon, i guess, murder mystery except more like bonked-on-the-head mystery, very glad that one's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackberrychai/pseuds/blackberrychai
Summary: At Fódlan’s Locket, long-awaited trade negotiations between Fódlan and Almyra are under way. But they’re rudely interrupted when a snowstorm and an assassin all arrive at once.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Hapi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13
Collections: Felileth Secret Santa 2020





	Snow on the Locket

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elasmosaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elasmosaurus/gifts).



> Mel!!! Here's your gift for the Felileth secret santa. Thank you so much for all the work you've put into organising it.
> 
> This is a... very liberal interpretation of your prompts, oops. But you asked for shenanigans, so shenanigans you shall receive. Plus some snow, and a sort-of murder mystery.
> 
> Thanks to [Vi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyverntail) for looking this over for me!

Dimitri sighs heavily. “Well, we don’t seem to be making much progress on this particular issue,” he says, shuffling the papers sprawled across the large table. “Perhaps if we move on for now to—”

He is interrupted by the doors slamming abruptly open. Byleth storms in, pushing the guards stationed just inside out of the room, and immediately barring the doors behind them. Her eyes sweep over the assembled group. “Good, you’re all in one place. We need to evacuate the castle. There’s an assassin trying to kill you.”

Of course, everything erupts into pandemonium. Everyone starts shouting at once, overlapping voices clamouring to be heard. Ingrid and Hilda are both on their feet, the former ready to leap to Dimitri’s defence, the latter in sheer indignation. On the opposite side of the table, the Almyrans have a range of expressions from tense to vaguely offended. The only ones who remain silent are Claude, leaning back in his chair with a frown, and Felix, who has leapt up and hurried over to Byleth.

“Why are you here?” he asks her urgently as soon as he gets close enough for her to hear. His hands settle onto her waist and his usual scowl is one of concern, not frustration. “You weren’t meant to be here till tomorrow.”

She sighs, and drops her head onto his shoulder. “It’s a fucking mess. Come on, everyone needs to hear this.” Then she’s pushing him away, and striding over to the conference table. She raps hard on the wood, and the noise calms abruptly. “Enough,” she says. “Felix, Ingrid, can you make sure the windows are locked?”

They both nod, and hurry to opposite sides of the room to begin checking.

“Well, teach,” Claude says, raising an eyebrow at her. “That was quite an entrance. Care to tell us what’s going on?”

  


* * *

  


When the room is secured to her satisfaction, and everyone is calm enough to sit down again, Byleth takes a deep breath. Felix is in the seat beside her now, and places a reassuring hand on her knee under the table.

“You remember I was due to arrive late to this summit due to matters in the Western Church that required my attention?” she begins. “Well, it turns out at least part of the matter was an attack by demonic beasts.”

That causes something of stir—they have been far less common since the end of the war—but she quiets it with a raised hand.

“That is not the important part. You all may remember that during the war, we encountered various forces of dark mages in beaked masks among the Imperial troops? One of them was accompanying the beast.”

Dimitri goes pale. “You mean—some of Edelgard’s men are still attempting to support her cause?”

“Do _not_ start on this again,” Felix growls, turning a glare on Dimitri

Byleth shoots him a quelling look, and inclines her head. “Yes and no. I do not want to go into details now, but there is… more going on than we thought. And judging by the results of our interrogation, at least some of their goals are the same.”

“Well? What are they, professor?” Ferdinand asks urgently. “I need not say that any suggestion of a resurgence of Edelgard’s cause could result in great turmoil in—”

Hilda cuts him off. “Yes, yes, bad news. Will you get to the point, professor?”

Byleth rolls her eyes. “I am attempting to,” she says. “If you will all let me finish. Anyway, we interrogated the mage, and he revealed—though only after a considerable length of time—that an assassin has been sent to attempt to kill Dimitri at this summit, and attempt to disrupt our negotiations with Almyra.”

Claude frowns. “What, and am I not worth assassinating?”

She smiles a thin smile back at him. “Edelgard’s interests were always firmly domestic. I can only assume these people are somewhat similar.”

He still looks perturbed, but nods back at her.

“If I may,” Dedue says from his seat beside Dimitri. “What would you suggest we do about this threat?”

“It’s simple,” Byleth says briskly, getting to her feet. “Firstly, of course, we must not leave Dimitri unguarded.” She motions to the Faerghans, and Ingrid, Dedue, Gilbert, Sylvain, and Felix all nod back at her, with varying degrees of reluctance. “Secondly, we should evacuate everyone who isn’t currently in this room from the castle.”

The room erupts into a chaos of shouting once again, and Byleth sighs heavily, sitting back down in her chair.

It’s Hilda who quiets them all this time. “As the actual commander of this castle—in my brother’s absence, of course—I think I have to object to that.”

Byleth frowns. “Why? It’s the perfect solution.”

Hilda throws up her hands. “For a start, where would we even send everyone! Most of them live up here, you know. It’s not like Fódlan’s Locket is a thriving metropolis. You may have noticed we’re a little bit isolated up here.”

“There’s a perfectly good town just down the road,” Byleth replies calmly. “They can go there until we’re done with the summit and can get Dimitri away safely.”

“Down the road? That’s six miles!” she says, appalled.

“If I might add something,” Ingrid cuts in. “I was out flying earlier, and unless I’m mistaken, there’s a big snowstorm on its way in. It’ll probably hit overnight, and I don’t think you want people to be going up and down the mountains in it.”

Byleth buries her head in her hands. “Great,” she says. “And how likely are you to be mistaken?”

“We’re from Faerghus,” Felix says scathingly. “We know what a snowstorm looks like.”

“This is Leicester! I thought it was meant to be warm here!” she protests.

Hilda laughs. “Well, yes, but we are right up in the mountains, you know. The snow probably won’t last long, but we do get these sudden storms most winters.”

“How long is not long in this case?” Sylvain says, leaning back in his chair and frowning.

She shrugs. “Probably just a couple of days, but could be a week or so.”

Ferdinand shivers in the corner.

“And how long would you say this castle has food for?” Sylvain continues.

Hilda freezes. “Shit. We generally keep enough stocked in winter for a little while, but with all the visiting delegations…” She trails off, and Sylvain nods grimly.

“I think we have another problem, then,” he says.

“No, this is perfect!” Byleth says cheerily, and Felix sighs next to her.

“Tell me, then, how is this perfect?” he asks, sounding extremely long-suffering.

Sylvain looks as though he’s about to laugh, and Byleth shoots him a quelling look. “Hilda, see, now there are two reasons to evacuate everyone! Then we only have to feed us, and there’s less risk of assassination.”

She sighs, twirling a strand of pink hair between two fingers. “Ugh, I hate being wrong,” she complains. “Fine, we can send all the servants and everyone down to the town.”

“Excellent!” Byleth says, getting to her feet. “You go do that. Dimitri, I need to see your rooms to check how secure they are.”

Gilbert gets to his feet as well. “Better His Majesty stays here,” he says. “I can show you, and negotiations may continue without us.”

“I’m coming too,” Felix interrupts, crossing his arms firmly over his chest.

“All right, all right, come on then,” Byleth says. “Dedue, come and bar the door after us. Don’t open it to anyone but us, ok?”

He nods seriously, and follows the three of them and Hilda to the door.

“Be careful,” he warns gravely, then shuts the door in their faces.

Hilda flips her hair over her shoulder. “Well, guess I’d better go and break the news to the staff.” She groans. “Ugh, a whole evacuation is going to be so much _work_.”

She flounces off down the corridor, and Felix rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says to Byleth. “I’ll show you where all our rooms are.”

They make their way through narrow corridors, and down a steep flight of spiral steps. Easily defended, Byleth thinks approvingly. There are advantages to assassins picking the time when the king is in one of the most defensible locations in Fodlan to attack. Eventually, they come to a corridor at the rear of the castle. There are tapestries on the walls here, and it’s evidently a place intended for living in, not fighting in.

“We all have rooms along here,” Felix says, striding towards a door near the middle. “Dimitri’s in this one.”

Byleth pushes the door open, and nods. “This isn’t bad,” she says, making her way through the first anteroom and into the bedchamber. “Good, we can lock him in here and keep a guard going.”

Gilbert clears his throat behind them, and Byleth turns in surprise. “If I might ask,” he says, “What precisely are you planning?”

A glare rises as easily as ever to Felix’s face, but he’s interrupted by a voice from the outer doorway.

“Hey, Chatterbox,” Hapi says, strolling in. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Slight emergency,” she says briefly, and turns back to the windows to examine their locks. “I didn’t realise you were going to be here, Hapi.”

She shrugs. “Nothing much to do in Fhirdiad with everyone gone, so I thought I’d tag along with Sylvain. I like the mountains. They’re cool.”

Byleth nods seriously back at her as Felix rolls his eyes. “They are,” she agrees. “However, they’re also going to shortly be covered in snow.”

“Ugh, we just _left_ Faerghus,” she complains. “I thought it was meant to be warmer here.”

“That point has already been made,” Felix says drily. “Now come on, surely you’ve spent enough time looking at the windows?”

“No,” Byleth says, and starts examining the shutters too.

“Again,” Gilbert interrupts, “What exactly is your plan?”

“I’m still making it, aren’t I?” Byleth replies, then slams the shutter closed. “Come on, I want to walk around the outside.”

Leaving Gilbert on guard in Dimitri’s rooms, and letting Hapi wander back off to wherever she was before, Felix and Byleth make their way down towards the entrance hall. He slides a hand into hers as they walk, and grips it tightly.

“Are you all right?” He asks quietly. “You looked very... ruffled when you arrived.”

She smiles back at him. “Yes. I’m fine, I promise. Just had to ride hard to get here as soon as possible.” She leans into his shoulder and drags them to a stop for a moment. “I missed you,” she mutters into his jacket, her voice suddenly vulnerable.

A surge of affection has Felix pulling her into him and wrapping his arms around her. “Me too,” he says softly.

They only stand there for a moment, though, and then Byleth is pushing him away and seizing his wrist to pull him outside. “I want to make a circuit,” she says, pulling her cloak more firmly around herself. “Goddess, Ingrid must be right. It’s definitely getting chilly.”

It’s only mid-afternoon, but the clouds are closing in on them and it plunges everything into premature dusk. The castle is surrounded by a wall, high and smooth, the normally golden stone turned grey and dull in the light. The sharp peaks and crags of the mountains are dark against the sky, and in front of the castle loom the wide gates, set in the wall to guard the single road through the pass.

“I’ve never really understood,” Byleth says idly as they walk, “Why they need a castle right up here, at the highest point of the pass.”

Felix frowns. “What do you mean? To guard the road, of course.”

“Yes, yes, but _why_?” She says. “The castle is for defence, obviously, but if you have that I don’t see why you need a whole extra bit to block the road.”

“It’s about controlling the trade routes,” Felix replies, and shrugs. “I don’t know, it all seems a bit ridiculous to me too.”

Byleth sighs, and looks up at the fortifications. “Well, I guess at least we know nobody is getting through this,” she says grimly. “Especially not once it starts snowing.”

“We should set a watch anyway,” Felix says, pointing up to the towers in the castle walls. “Good to be cautious.”

The castle is built on a small patch of level ground in the pass, backing onto the steep slope of the mountain above. After the wide space between the gates of the road and the front of the fortification itself, the wall cuts in close by the castle’s sides. They make their way through the narrow passageway between the side of the castle and the wall, and come round to the back of the building. The walls peter out here, as the mountain begins to climb steeply, and the ground on either side of the small gardens is too impassable to make a good point for invasion. Byleth peers up at the windows above, and finds one the single shuttered one.

“There,” she says, pointing. “That’s Dimitri’s.” She inspects the wall below, and finds it satisfyingly free of ivy, or anything else that an enterprising assassin could use to climb up to the window. Below, there are only a series of dry, prickly bushes.

Felix nods in satisfaction. “His bedchamber seems about as secure as we’re likely to get here,” he says.

Byleth sighs, but nods. “Being in a fortification is good, I suppose, but it’s very much designed for defending against armies, not single assassins. I’m worried someone will slip past us.”

“It’s fine,” Felix reassures her. “And anyway, surely you know that the boar can defend himself?”

She looks at him in concern. “Has everything been all right here?” she asks. “You hardly ever call him that these days.”

Felix shrugs. “I don’t think the stress is good for him, but he’ll be fine.” It’s been years since the war ended, and while Felix has settled into his role as Dimitri’s advisor, the old tension between them still lingers.

“It’s just Claude,” Byleth says. “I don’t see why he’s so stressed about this. They’ll work something out.”

He lifts his hands. “That’s what I told him. But I think Ferdinand got him all worked up.”

“Oh goddess, Ferdinand,” she groans. “Look, it’s fine. Isn’t it meant to be my job as archbishop to mediate this kind of thing?”

Felix laughs, and steps in close to her, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Yes, but you hate that.”

She makes a face. “Yeah. But honestly, the negotiations are the least of my worries right now.”

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go back in. I think it’s about to start snowing.”

“How can you tell?” Byleth asks, looking up at the sky. It’s a single, flat sheet of cloud for now, but there are dark fronts gathering just to the north.

“It’s the smell,” Felix says. “The air always smells different just before it snows.”

She laughs, bright and loud in the quiet garden. “That’s bullshit, Fraldarius.”

He scowls back at her. “Ask any of the other Faerghans,” he insists. “They’ll back me up.”

“Sure,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  


* * *

  


Despite her protests, Hilda is well on the way to managing a full evacuation of the Locket by the time they make their way back into the entrance hall. Admittedly, it may have taken them a little longer than necessary to make it there, especially since Felix had paused in the narrow gap between the castle and the outer wall to press Byleth up against the stonework and kiss her thoroughly.

Hilda rolls her eyes when she sees them, and bustles over to straighten the collar of Byleth’s cloak for her. “Honestly,” she says. “Nobody can leave you two alone for five minutes.”

Felix is slowly turning a deep pink, and when Hilda leans over to adjust his hair where Byleth had pulled it partially out of its tie, he’s nearly the same colour as her hair. He bats her hands away abruptly. “How’s the evacuation plan?” he asks.

She sighs. “Oh, it’s so much _effort_ ,” she complains. “But I’ve got most of the servants collected now. Most of them have family in the town, but we’re still trying to work out where to put everyone from Claude and Dimitri’s entourage.”

“Can’t Dimitri’s people at least stay?” Byleth asks.

“Apparently not. There was some big argument about it. You’d better ask their royal highnesses.” She heaves another sigh, and marches back off with a little wave.

“I have never understood,” Felix remarks, “How anything ever gets done with her around.”

“And yet it does,” Byleth says drily. “She’s more resourceful than people expect, you know. Anyway, we should get back to the others.”

When they finish climbing the endless steps back to the conference room, and get Dedue to let them back in, everyone is sat in tense silence. There are also significantly fewer people in here before: Claude’s side of the table is almost entirely empty.

Felix folds his arms calmly, sits down, and joins in. He fits right in, and part of Byleth just wants to scream.

“What’s the problem now?” she mutters to Dedue.

“There was a slight disagreement,” Dedue replies, “Over which people should be allowed to stay in the Locket.”

She says nothing, and just stares at him until he continues. “Claude wished for Nader and his other advisers to remain, but we all… that is, Ingrid, Sylvain, and myself agreed that we do not know enough about any of them to trust them here.”

Byleth looks at him solemnly. “Dedue, I can’t say I disagree, but you do realise that you probably offended them all immensely?”

He sighs. “I am aware, yes. They insisted in turn that if they and everyone else Claude brought with him had to leave, then so should Dimitri’s attendants.” He shrugs hopelessly. “We managed to persuade them that since Dimitri was directly threatened, his closest comrades should remain, but we have to send away everyone else who came with us.”

Byleth rubs at her temples, then nods to him, and strides over to the table. “Right, who is staying here, then?” she asks briskly.

Dimitri shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Myself and Claude, of course. Hilda and Ferdinand too, as representatives of the former Leicester Alliance and Adrestian Empire. That way we can at least continue somewhat with the negotiations of the trade agreements.”

“Sorry for the mess, teach,” Claude chimes in, looking a little chagrined. “My advisers can get a little touchy.”

She shrugs. “We’ll deal with it. Who else.”

Sylvain answers this time. “Ashe and Ingrid, as royal knights—they’ve already gone off to scout the best places to set up a guard on the walls after the snow clears a little.”

“Myself and Gilbert will serve as his Majesty’s personal guards,” Dedue adds.

“That leaves you, who has to stay to keep everyone else in check, and Felix, who would probably murder us if we tried to make him leave now,” Sylvain says brightly. Felix fumes in his seat, but doesn’t contradict him. “And then Hapi and myself, well,” he winks at Byleth. “We didn’t much fancy the trek down to the town.”

Dimitri looks even more uncomfortable at this. “Sylvain!” he protests. “You are a valued councillor, and Hapi is, in her own right, an extremely—”

Byleth catches Felix’s eyes across the table, and he stares at the ceiling for a brief moment, before interrupting Dimitri. “Enough,” he says, and the king falls obediently silent, looking vaguely put out.

Sylvain sighs. “Well then, I guess we should be doing our best to get on with the negotiations. Your Majesty, where were we before?”

  


* * *

  


Byleth quickly gets bored of the endless details of trade agreements that need to be hashed out, and begins to ignore the slow conversation occupying the rest of them. Instead, she stares out of the window, where the snow is just beginning to fall. The flakes are still drifting gently at the moment, but the sky is gradually darkening with both dusk and the thickening of the clouds. She can just make out the gates on the road from here, and the drifting flakes are building up against the walls surprisingly quickly.

After a couple of hours of increasingly dull, increasingly tense conversation, Hilda storms in and flops down into a chair dramatically.

“How is the evacuation going, Hilda?” Dimitri asks nervously. “I truly am sorry for all the inconvenience this must be causing you.”

She gives him a mock scowl. “And so you should be, getting threatened with assassination!” she says. “Absolutely disgraceful.”

Dimitri turns pink, but shuts up.

“We’re nearly done, I think,” she continues. “Most of yours and Claude’s people are out now, and I sent our steward ahead to organise places for them all to stay. The people in the town aren’t going to be happy, you know.” She sighs. “Ugh, and we’re going to have to offer to resupply their food stocks, and everything.”

“I’m sure we can do that,” Dimitri hurries to say. “It’s the least we can do to make up for the inconvenience.”

Felix buries his head in his hands and mutters, “Yes, just offer up our own food stocks, of course, nobody will mind that.”

“But we do still have problems,” Hilda says. “The last lot of our staff is about to leave, but the storm is really starting to pick up. The path to the town is going to be blocked off pretty soon, by the morning at least if it isn’t tonight.”

“Well, that’s not too bad,” Byleth offers, getting up and wandering over to the window. “Excellent news if nobody can actually get an assassin up here.”

“Well, good for that, maybe, but I’m not looking forward to being stuck here. Besides, I looked over our food stocks, and with how much all you visitors have been eating, we won’t have enough food if we’re cut off for more than a few days.”

“Crap,” Sylvain says, then pulls a sheet of paper towards himself and starts scribbling something down. “Hilda, how much of what would you say there is?”

Byleth tunes out their bickering over details in favour of staring at the snow. “It is pretty, though,” she muses aloud. “Look at the way the light from the windows casts shadows on the snow.”

“Uh, mind on the plan, please, Professor?” Hilda says. “And anyway, the prettiness does not make up for the… everything else-ness about it.”

“I entirely agree,” Ferdinand adds, with feeling.

“You know what I think,” Felix interjects smugly. “I think you’re all wimps who can’t stand a little cold.”

Sylvain snorts. “Come on, Felix, you’re hardly better than them.”

Felix glares at him. “I can deal with the snow, Sylvain.”

“Mmmm, not really,” he says, tipping his chair back on two legs. “Remember that time in Gautier when we ran into those bandits—”

_“No_ , Sylvain, I’ve somehow forgotten all about it.”

“Wait, what happened?” Byleth says. “I think I need to hear this story.”

“You absolutely do not,” Felix growls.

“Much as I would also like to hear it,” Claude says, “We should probably sort out our current snow problem first.”

Sylvain sighs, and goes back to his sheet of notes. “Well, if we start working on clearing the road as soon as it all clears up, and you tell the last of your people who haven’t left yet that they should do the same on the town side, it should all be fine, right?”

Hilda rolls her eyes. “Well, duh, I already told them that. I’m still worried, though.”

  


* * *

  


Dinner that night is a solemn affair. Dedue cooks the meal personally, checking over all the ingredients for potential tampering, so of course it’s delicious. There’s little even his cooking can do to brighten everyone’s moods, though, when the castle stands empty and echoing, the snow quickly forming a thick, deadening blanket outside.

When they are approaching the end of the meal, and hardly a word has been spoken beyond complimenting Dedue’s cooking, Sylvain throws down his fork in exasperation.

“Dear goddess, this is depressing,” he says. “Hilda, come with me a moment.”

He gets to his feet and bounds out of the door. Hilda reluctantly follows him, and the room lapses back into silence without them, punctuated only by the occasional sound of cutlery scraping on plates. They can be heard before they’re seen on their return, giggles echoing down the corridor.

“We come,” Sylvain says triumphantly, kicking open the door and posing dramatically in the doorway, “Bearing gifts!” He lifts two large bottles, one in each hand, and grins broadly.

Both Sylvain and Hilda have something of a talent for persuading people into conviviality. It’s not so much that they get everyone drunk, but more that they twist their fingers into the knot of tension that has been building for hours and hours, and just _pull_ until everyone just falls apart in relief.

Even Felix, who has just been twisting in on himself further and further all day, gradually relaxes into Byleth, going from sitting stiffly beside her to leaning gently towards her. She revels in this rare softness from him, however temporary. It’s not too rare for her to see it, but that he’s willing to let it show, even a little, around others shows just how stressful he has found the afternoon.

“Sylvain,” Byleth says, attracting his attention from across the table. “I think you should tell me the rest of that story about Felix and the bandits that he wouldn’t let me hear earlier.”

“ _No_ ,” Felix immediately protests next to her, but Sylvain is already grinning.

“Oh, I’d be _delighted_ ,” he says, and reaches over to refill Felix’s glass of wine. “Here Felix, you might need this to get through it.”

Felix glares, but picks up the glass and downs a good half of it.

Sylvain leans in conspiratorially. “This all happened when the war had just started, you know. It was all a bit miserable, but Felix has always had a talent for cheering us up, and this had us laughing for weeks.”

“Fuck you,” Felix complains, but otherwise only takes another drink.

Sylvain cackles. “So, what with Cornelia taking over everything, there were a lot of villagers forced into being bandits. That first winter was a nasty one, and she requisitioned a lot of the food stores. Anyway, a group of them had been stealing from some of the villages in Gautier, so Felix and I took a few of our troops to deal with them. Except,” he says, and grins. “Felix is an idiot who decided to go off to scout on his own.”

Byleth raises an eyebrow at him. “Felix,” she says.

He scowls back. “What? I just wanted to get an idea of their camp’s defences.”

“You certainly did that,” Sylvain says. “If you count getting caught by them as assessing their defences, of course.”

Claude snorts from further down the table, and Felix turns to glare at him. “Oh, fuck, are you all listening now?”

“We certainly are,” Hilda says cheerily.

“I’ve heard this one before,” Ingrid adds, “But I always want to hear it again.”

Felix gives her the middle finger, and Byleth laughs and takes the opportunity to seize his hand.

“Obviously I went after him,” Sylvain continues. “Saw him tied up in the middle of the camp looking angry, so we decided to try and liberate him once it got dark. So we came back later, except Felix was in one of the tents now. We ended up capturing most of the bandits in attempting to find him anyway, but by the time we did he’d just about managed to get himself untied.”

Ingrid starts giggling, and Sylvain’s look of glee is only increasing.

“You have to remember that this was Gautier in the middle of winter, and good winter clothes aren’t exactly at the top of every bandit’s ‘Things to Steal’ list.”

“Oh goddess,” Byleth said, suddenly seeing where this is going.

“So of course, they’d taken most of Felix’s clothes, and he stumbled out of the tent he’d been shoved in wearing just his shirt and underclothes,” Sylvain says. “In the snow. In Gautier. In the middle of Guardian Moon.”

“He was too busy laughing to actually find me anything better to wear,” Felix complains.

“You looked so pathetic!” he replies. “How could I do anything but laugh? And besides, any self-respecting Faerghan should be able to survive in the snow for a little.”

“It wasn’t a little!” Felix exclaims, then turns to everyone else. “He’s just a fucking bastard who let me stand there shivering instead of helping me.”

“In Galatea,” Ingrid says, “There’s a competition every year on Saint Cichol’s day to run twice round the castle in your underclothes.” She grins at Felix. “I’ve won it twice.”

Sylvain’s face lights up. “I’ve just had a _brilliant_ idea.”

“No,” Felix says immediately.

“You haven’t even heard it yet!” he protests.

Ashe chimes in. “I think we can guess, though, Sylvain,” he says.

“Oh no,” Dimitri says under his breath, but it’s too late. Sylvain is on his feet and hauling everyone else up one by one, and shooing them towards the doors.

“Come on!” he shouts. “Everyone strip!”

Everyone looks wary to some degree, but Sylvain’s enthusiasm is hard to say no to. They gradually file out into the entrance hall, which is already significantly colder than the dining hall.

Hilda is the first to join in Sylvain’s initiative, but she adamantly refuses to take her own clothes off. “Someone needs to judge this,” she says laconically, and grins. “Besides, it’s my castle. I’d have an unfair advantage.”

Claude rolls his eyes at this, but gets to work undoing the bolts on the main door. As soon as he gets it open, the wind gusts in. It’s picked up a lot since night fell, and the snow is falling thickly.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ferdinand says, pulling his jacket more tightly around him.

Surprisingly, it’s Ingrid who replies. “Oh, absolutely,” she says, grinning. “Here are the rules, everyone. Underclothes only, but you can keep your shoes on. We line up outside, and it’s first one to finish two laps of the castle.”

“You’re only enthusiastic because you think you’ll win,” Felix complains.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “And? Are you going to prove me wrong?”

Felix glares at her, and Byleth laughs. “Shit,” he mutters to her. “Now I have to do it.”

He reluctantly begins undoing his belts and clasps, and Byleth joins him. He looks inquisitively at her. “Really? I didn’t think you would.”

“I’m here to prove both you and Ingrid wrong, Fraldarius,” she says, face impassive.

He grins then, sharp and sudden. “Oh, it’s on.” He straightens up, and marches over to Sylvain. “Byleth and I are in,” he says.

Sylvain laughs. “I should’ve known all it would take is a competition. All right, who else?”

Gilbert has already backed all the way up to the stairs. “I believe I will say goodnight,” he says, and practically flees up the stairs.

Felix rolls his eyes. “Guess we already knew he was a coward,” he mutters, and Byleth pokes his arm in response, despite the huff of laughter that forces its way out.

In the end, it’s only Dedue who isn’t persuaded into it, insisting that he cannot protect his Majesty properly with frostbite. Even Ferdinand and Dimitri give in to Sylvain’s cajoling, as does Ashe, though he looks extremely doubtful. Hapi seems completely unaffected by the cold as the nine of them line up outside, and all the Faerghans seem to be taking it fairly well, despite the sharp wind. Ferdinand looks as miserable as Byleth feels as it bites into her skin, the flakes beginning to soak through her slip.

Hilda grins at them all, still fully dressed and positioned just out of the wind inside the doorway. “Goddess, you look miserable,” she says happily. “Are you all ready?”

“Hurry up!” Claude shouts. His back is straight, but he’s clearly trying to hide just how cold he is.

She laughs, and rubs her hands together. “All right, all right. On your marks,” she says, then pauses dramatically. “And… go!”

Byleth puts her head down against the wind, and runs. The first stretch, towards the corner of the castle, has them all running as a pack, jostling impatiently against each other. She can hear Ferdinand letting out little whimpers at the cold, and the combined sounds of their panting thick in the air.

It doesn’t really get tense till they reach the first corner, when they have to make their way through the narrow passage between the castle and the high wall surrounding it. The one advantage is they are shielded a little from the wind, but it turns out that Ingrid is an absolutely shameless saboteur.

“Fuck!” Sylvain says as she kicks at his ankles to get ahead of him in the small space. “Is this why you win in Galatea?”

Byleth snorts a laugh, then manages to hook a foot around Felix’s ankle. He only stumbles slightly, but he glares at her and makes a low sound that’s practically a growl. The whole group of them quickly devolves into a mess of kicking and pushing, and by the time they make it to the back of the castle, they’re all significantly more bruised than before. Out in the open again, Byleth sprints as fast as she can. She’s blinking the snow out of her eyes when she sees a figure ahead of her, just visible in the dim light from the castle windows.

She tenses, and is about to go fumbling for the dagger she still has in her boot, when Ashe pants out, “Is that _Claude_?” from behind her.

Sure enough, he’s not with them, and as they get closer, he runs cheerily past them, and waves. “Didn’t want to get caught in the crush!” he calls.

“Is that allowed?” Dimitri says, sounding worried, but all discussion of that is swiftly put aside as they begin to approach the other narrow passage between the castle and the wall. Byleth puts on a burst of speed, trying to get ahead while she can, but she’s not the only one with this idea.

As they enter the passageway, she ends up shoved uncomfortably into the wall by Sylvain, who winks at her as he pushes ahead. When she pushes back at him, he goes stumbling into Ashe just as they reach the corner, who falls into Dimitri, who falls into Ferdinand, who ends up flat on his face in the snow.

He moans as he picks himself up. “I really don’t think this is proper behaviour,” he mumbles, shivering as he tries to brush the snow off and run at the same time.

Dimitri nods along, looking solemn, as they approach the front doors again. Claude is already almost there, his tactic of running in the opposite direction apparently having paid off. Ingrid scowls at him as he passes them a moment later, and mutters, “Cheat,” under her breath.

When they reach Hilda, there’s very little distance between any of them. But apparently it’s all too much for Ferdinand, and he crashes past Hilda into the entrance hall. She looks faintly disgusted at his damp and dishevelled state, and he shouts “I concede!” as the rest of them continue.

“One down,” Ingrid says viciously, then puts on a burst of speed. They’re beginning to separate out a little more now, and she, Byleth, and Felix, and somewhere near the front. Hapi and Ashe aren’t far behind, but Dimitri and Sylvain seem to be lagging a little.

As they enter the narrow passage once again, though, Byleth catches Felix’s eye and grins. Together, they each grab hold of one of Ingrid’s shoulders, and pull her backwards. Then they deliberately stay side by side through the passage, keeping her from getting ahead. She swears far more colourfully than she usually would dare to.

But their animosity is forgotten as soon as the three of them round the corner and see Claude is almost on top of them, unencumbered by the shoving that has slowed the rest of them down.

“Fuck,” Felix says, and Ingrid sighs.

“Well,” she mutters, “I guess I’m not winning anyway. For Faerghus!” Ingrid yells, and runs at Claude, catching him in a swooping tackle. He shrieks as the two of them go toppling backwards into the snow, and struggles even as Ingrid pushes him down and pins him with a knee on the small of his back.

Sylvain whoops as he passes them, and Byleth can faintly hear Ingrid talking to Claude. “Sorry,” she says, “But I couldn’t let you win this.”

Byleth sprints towards the next corner, Felix close beside her. When she looks back, she realises Dimitri and Ashe have both stopped by Claude and Ingrid, looking concerned and trying to persuade Ingrid to let Claude get up from the snow. It’s just four of them now, and Byleth is all too eager to abandon her and Felix’s temporary alliance.

As they enter the final narrow stretch, she kicks out at his knee, and takes great pleasure in his yelp of pain. She draws ahead, just a little, and grins. Hapi and Sylvain are close behind, though, and Sylvain is eager to join in the bully Felix campaign.

“Hey, Felix!” he shouts. “You and Byleth have anything bet on who wins? What’s she going to do to you if you let her win?”

Felix snarls. “I don’t understand,” he pants, as he and Hapi race side by side after Byleth, “how you put up with him.”

She shrugs as best she can while simultaneously trying to elbow him into the wall. “He only said that,” she says, “Because we have something bet on this.”

Byleth can’t see his face, but she can imagine his look of disgust. She glances back again as she rounds the corner onto the final stretch, and grins. The others are too far behind to catch up now. But that’s no excuse for complacency, and she keeps her pace up.

The only warning she gets that anything else is going to happen is hearing Felix mutter, “Don’t let Sylvain win.” Then suddenly, a warm weight is hitting her back as Felix jumps at her, sending the two of them rolling across the snow.

When she’s able to look up again, Hapi is charging triumphantly up to Hilda, arms raised in victory. Byleth spits out her mouthful of snow, and looks up at Felix above her. “Fuck you,” she says grumpily, and then pulls him down by the collar of his thin undershirt into a bruising kiss.

They only break apart when Sylvain wolf whistles at them, and they turn to glare at him in unison. The others approach from around the other side, and Hilda loudly declares Hapi the victor as they all stumble back inside.

It’s not exactly warm in the castle entrance hall—the ceilings are too high, and the whole place is too draughty for that—but anything is better than the snow. As they all shove cold limbs back into their clothes, Dedue brings a tray of hot mugs of tea out from the kitchens.

“Dedue,” Byleth says fervently, wrapping her hands around her mug, “I think you might be an angel.”

He smiles a rare smile. “It wouldn’t do anyone any good for half our negotiating table to freeze.”

For some reason, once they’re all dressed and as everyone begins to trickle back into the main body of the castle, laughing and shivering, Felix tugs Byleth back out into the snow.

“What are you doing?” she complains. “Felix, haven’t you had enough of the cold?”

He huffs. “They’re so loud. I just want some quiet.”

Byleth sighs, but nods and lets him grab her wrist and pull them down through the main courtyard and towards the road through the pass. The snow is falling fast and thick now, and the wind bites through her clothes. She shivers, and as soon as they approach the high walls, she insistently pulls Felix into their shelter, nestling herself securely under his arm.

“You’re such a wimp about the cold,” he says scathingly, but there’s a hint of affection lurking underneath. Byleth makes an offended noise, and reaches up to pull at his hair.

“And you,” she says, “Are such an arsehole.”

He hums agreeably, and shifts to wrap her properly in his arms so they can both stare at the snow. The opposite side of the courtyard is practically invisible, the flakes falling so thick and fast.

“I like how… muffled everything becomes,” Byleth says softly, reluctant to break the strange peace in this corner beneath the wall. “Even though the wind is loud, everything else just sort of… fades.”

She feels Felix nod. “When I was small, I always hated horse riding lessons the most. But in the winter, when it’s just—just the horse, and the fields, and you? There’s something wonderful about it.”

“Horse riding lessons,” she snorts. “Ha, I bet you hated that.”

He elbows her, but doesn’t reply. After a minute more, Byleth turns to extract herself from his grasp. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s go back in.”

By the time they trudge through the snow back to the castle entrance hall, the others all seem to have disappeared. Byleth sighs.

“I’d better check about guarding arrangements for Dimitri. Are you coming or shall I meet you in our room?”

“Our room, is it?” he says, arching an eyebrow. “And here I was thinking it was mine.”

“Well, you can sleep there on your own if you really want to,” she says, sliding herself close to him so they are pressed together from chest to hip.

Felix reaches out instinctively to fasten his hands on her hips. “Hmmm,” he says non-committally.

“But I don’t think you do,” she breathes, and pulls him down by the collar, into a biting kiss.

His lips are warm against hers, an unexpected relief from the chill, and she practically melts into him, revelling in the way his fingers dig slightly into the flesh of her hips. Even through her thick cloak, his grip is strong and sure, and she is reminded vividly of what else his fingers can do to her.

She breaks away, panting slightly for breath, and pushes against his chest. “Dimitri,” she says, trying to focus.

“I really didn’t expect,” Felix mutters, leaning in so his breath brushes against her ear, “That you would be saying the boar’s name when I’m doing _this_ to you.” Then he begins to nip teasing kisses into the skin just behind the ridge of her jawbone.

Byleth tips her head to allow him better access, one hand lifting to slide into his hair. “Damn it,” she gasps, then pushes him away again. “You’re too distracting,” she complains, with a mock glare.

Felix grins back at her, a sharp-edged thing that lets her see the hunger in his eyes.

“Later,” she says, and takes a step back. “I need to check what’s happening with guards for Dimitri first.”

He shakes his head at her. “I’ll do it. I’m pretty sure Dedue had it all in hand, anyway. You go to bed and warm up.”

“Are you sure?” Byleth says gratefully. “I don’t think I can feel my toes.”

“Like I said,” he laughs. “ _Wimp_.” But he pulls her into a final kiss, then strides off up the main staircase.

Byleth takes a moment to smooth her hair down again, and sighs, then begins the long trek up to their bedroom. It’s cold when she gets there, the fire lit but burning low. Of course, she thinks. With the servants gone, there’s been nobody to bank it all evening. But still, there are a multitude of advantages to not having grown up as stuffy nobility—the least of which is knowing how to build your own fires. She kneels beside it, and soon it is blazing up again.

Wearily, she undresses quickly, staying as close to the fire as possible, then slips into the bed. The sheets are cold, despite the many layers of blankets, but despite that Byleth quickly begins to find her long day is catching up with her. She had ridden for several hours straight this morning, and though she’s competent, she’s certainly not the best of horsewomen. But Seteth had been overseeing the interrogation of the mage all night, and by the time he wrung something out of the man, it was late enough that nothing else would do.

She yawns into the dark room, and is just debating whether to wait for him when Felix comes in.

“Finally,” she complains. “My feet are still cold.”

He comes to stand by the bed, and tangles his fingers with hers. “You’re going to torture me with cold feet as soon as I get into bed, aren’t you?” he says, sounding resigned.

“Yes,” Byleth replies smugly, then waits as he unbuckles his ludicrously complicated belts and undresses. When he clambers in beside her, she does indeed press her feet onto his calves. He’s not exactly warm, but anything is better than nothing. “Is the guard duty sorted?” she asks.

He nods. “Ingrid and Ashe are going to split tonight, then they can catch up on sleep tomorrow and Gilbert and Dedue can take over.”

“Mmmm, good,” Byleth says. She stretches luxuriantly into him, relishing the hard muscle of his chest against her back. His hand slips round her waist, the fingers just slightly cool.

“I have an idea,” he says, “About how to warm you up more.”

Byleth grins, keeping her face turned away so he can’t see, and presses back against him. “I’m very interested to hear it.”

  


* * *

  


In the morning, Byleth wakes as the sun is rising. It hadn’t exactly been a restful night—the snowstorm had only picked up through the small hours of the morning, and the wind had howled around the windows. It had calmed a few hours before dawn, and she had fallen into desperate, relieved sleep. Felix is warm against her in the grey light of the morning, and she’s reluctant to move. But the memories of yesterday’s events flood back to her, and she reluctantly pokes him awake.

“Come on, we need to get up,” she says.

He grumbles, and lifts his head sleepily. “What time is it?” he mumbles.

She shrugs. “Late enough to be light outside.”

He sighs, and sits up. “Ugh. And Dimitri and Claude want to carry on the trade negotiations today.”

“Not my problem,” Byleth says smugly.

“Oh, you’re not getting out of it, Archbishop,” he says.

She sticks her tongue out childishly. “I’ll get out of it more easily than you, Duke Fraldarius.”

Felix scowls back at her, then rolls himself out of bed with a sigh. He walks over to the window and stares out across the snow-covered grounds. “Still snowing,” he says. “But not quite so hard now.”

Coming to stand behind him, Byleth stands on her tiptoes to rest her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms securely around his chest. “I could hear the wind all night,” she adds.

“The road will be a nightmare,” Felix says grumpily. “I changed my mind. I hate snow.”

“No you don’t,” Byleth says smugly, and plants a kiss on his cheek. “It’s fine, you can get out of the snow-clearing.”

He groans. “Snow shovelling or trade talks,” he says. “Why the hell are these my options?”

Byleth laughs. “Come on. Let’s go and find some breakfast.”

When they reach the dining hall, Dedue has once again cooked a wide variety of delicious smelling things, all lined up along the table covered with metal lids to keep them warm. Ingrid is already there, wolfing down a plate of eggs and looking completely exhausted. She grunts a greeting at them, then returns to her food. Opposite her, Dimitri is picking at his own meal.

“Good morning,” he says miserably.

“Goddess, Dimitri,” Byleth says, flinging herself into the seat next to Ingrid. “What’s wrong?”

“I just feel terrible,” he says, “That everyone is being forced to go to so much trouble for me.” He gestures at Ingrid. “I wish I did not have to force my friends to stay up all night just to make sure I am not attacked.”

Ingrid makes a muffled noise, and hastily swallows her mouthful. “Your Majesty! I promise, I don’t mind!” Then she’s cut off by her own wide yawn. She attempts to cover it, not managing particularly well, then sighs and shrugs. “However, I am going to go to get some sleep,” she adds ruefully.

Felix snorts at her, and she scowls half-heartedly, then shoves the last of her eggs into her mouth, and wanders out of the dining hall.

Everyone else trickles gradually in for breakfast, except for Ashe who is apparently already asleep. Most of them seem relatively perky, despite the storm that has been raging all night.

“Morning, Chatterbox,” Hapi says, taking Ingrid’s seat. “What’s the plan for today?”

Byleth makes a tired noise. “Why am I meant to be the one with the plan?” she complains.

“Once a professor, always a professor,” Sylvain adds from her other side, grinning. “We are at your command.”

Sure enough, glancing around the table, everyone is suddenly looking at her. Byleth sighs. “Did you want to attempt to continue the trade talks?” she asks reluctantly.

Dimitri nods enthusiastically. “Oh, yes! If everyone else is amenable. It has taken so much effort to get us to this point, and it would be a shame to waste all of that now.”

Claude snorts into his plate, but nods. “I can hold my own, even without my advisors,” he says, and winks at Dimitri. He flushes brightly in response.

Byleth ignores them, and sorts through everyone present in her head. “I suppose Ferdinand and Hilda will be joining you,” she says, more to herself than anything. “Felix?”

He sighs, but nods. “I should too, I suppose. I guess I can guard Dimitri at the same time.”

“Mmm,” Byleth says. “I’ll send Dedue with you all too, just in case.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “I am quite capable of dealing with an assassin on my own,” he says, but doesn’t complain any further. It’s practically a resounding endorsement from him.

“Sylvain?” Byleth asks. “Trade talks or snow clearing?”

He shrugs. “They probably don’t need me there, so I’ll help with whatever you need. We can check back in on the talks later.”

Byleth nods. “You, Gilbert, and I can make a start on clearing the road then. Hilda, do you know where we could find… I don’t know, spades? Shovels?”

Hilda yawns. “I can show you. To be honest, they really don’t need me for the trade talks, so they can get on with that without me.” She winks. “Just don’t try to get me to shovel snow.”

“Excellent, you can help Hapi sweep the castle, since you know it best,” Byleth says briskly, then continues quickly to cut off her inevitable protest. “We should get started on the snow. There’s only so much daylight.”

Breakfast ends with a reluctant clatter of dishes, and they split reluctantly in two. Felix pulls Byleth off behind the doorway to kiss her firmly before he disappears up to the conference room.

“Don’t get too cold,” he mutters in her ear, and pushes a pair of his black leather gloves into her hand.

She stares down at them fondly for a moment, then shakes her head and follows Hilda and the others out to the back of the castle to find gardening supplies. Armed with a plethora of spades, she, Sylvain, and Gilbert make their way through the drifts of snow to the passageways around the side of the castle. They’re filled practically past head height now.

“I guess this is our first job,” Sylvain says cheerily, poking at the bank of snow with his spade.

Byleth sighs. “It’s so narrow, there’s hardly room for more than one person to work here. How about we go round to the front, make a start on the road, and Gilbert starts on this bit?”

Gilbert nods seriously. “That is a good plan,” he says.

“Right!” Sylvain says, and winks. “Just you and me, then,” he adds, as Byleth turns away and moves back towards the castle’s rear door. He slings an arm around her shoulders, and laughs when she pushes it off impatiently.

It takes more effort than she’d expected to even get to the front gates. They stamp down the snow on the main path so that it’s actually possible to walk on, but it’s tiring work. When they reach the wide gates standing over the road, it’s a relief to find that the one heading down to the village doesn’t seem to be snowed shut. Between the two of them, they haul it open, and look out over the view of the valley stretched out below them.

“Wow,” Sylvain says softly, reverently, and Byleth nods.

In the softly drifting snowfall, they still can’t see all that far, but it’s still spectacular. The road winds it way down the slope below the castle, cutting back and forth across the mountainside. The village below them probably isn’t that far, really, but with the way it is forced to cut above sharp outcrops of rock, avoid sudden little cliffs, the road there is long.

Byleth sighs. “I guess we’d better make a start,” she says.

  


* * *

  


They work for several solid hours, making their way down the road. It’s slow work, but they get into the rhythm of it—beating down most of the path, clearing the places where particularly high drifts have built up. Hapi comes down to join them after the first hour, declaring that she and Hilda hadn’t found anything in their search of the castle. Hilda, of course, does not want to shovel snow, and has remained sitting in the castle entrance hall so that someone is there to unbar the locked doors when they need to get back in.

The snow lessens gradually as they work, but it doesn’t make it any less bitterly cold. Bits of snow melt into Byleth’s gloves, and her fingers are quickly frozen. Her toes don’t fare much better, despite the thick socks she has inside her boots. Eventually even Sylvain is shivering, though Hapi still seems relatively unaffected.

Byleth throws her spade down. “That’s it,” she says through chattering teeth. “Let’s go back in.”

The others agree gratefully, and retreat to the castle. Hilda lets them in, then wanders off somewhere, and they crowd around the huge fire that has now been lit in the vast grate that takes up a whole wall of the entrance hall.

“I guess we should go and check in on the trade negotiations,” Sylvain says, once they all have feeling in their hands once again.

Byleth groans, but nods, and leaving Hapi on the stairs, they make their way up to the conference room.

“You know,” Byleth says as they approach. “I really don’t see why they need me for all this.”

“You’re archbishop,” Sylvain says wryly, pushing open the doors. “Part of the job, right?”

But Byleth is suddenly otherwise occupied. As she moves around the end of the table, she notices a slumped shape on the floor. She runs over and kneels beside it.

“Shit,” she mutters, then louder, “ _Shit_.”

Dedue is slumped on the floor, a large cut on the side of his head clotted with blood. Byleth fumbles for a pulse, and is relieved to find it. “Sylvain!” she calls urgently. “Go get Hapi. _Now_.”

Taking a deep breath, she shuts her eyes and focuses on her healing spell. The light glows white around her fingers and around Dedue’s head. How the fuck had they ended up with half of that Officers’ Academy class in this bloody castle, and not a single one of the healers?

It doesn’t take long till she hears footsteps again, though. Hapi drops to her knees beside Byleth, summoning her own healing magic.

“Go find everyone else,” Hapi says. “I can heal him.”

Byleth nods gratefully. She snaps out a quick “Stay there,” to Sylvain as she runs through the door, and then she’s hurtling down the stairs. Where the hell would the others have gone?

She tries Dimitri’s rooms first, but they’re empty, so she runs down yet more stairs, towards the centre of the castle and the kitchens, looking for someone, anyone. The first person she finds is Gilbert, near the staircase up to the conference rooms.

“Archbishop?” he asks, sounding startled.

“Have you seen Dimitri? Or Felix, or Claude? Ferdinand? Hilda?” she asks urgently.

He shakes his head, and frowns. “Are they not in the conference room?” he asks.

“No,” she says curtly. “Come with me.” Then she takes off again, down more stairs, Gilbert puffing along behind her.

She finds Hilda next, back in the entrance hall, standing by the main doors and surveying the snowy landscape.

“Hilda!” she calls as soon as she sees her. “Where is everyone?”

Hilda seems almost appallingly relaxed. “Oh, did Dedue not tell you?” she says. “They decided to move down to the dining hall, it was so cold up there.”

“Dedue has been attacked,” Byleth snaps out, marching towards the dining hall. “There’s something going on. Stay here, both of you.” As she moves off, she can hear Hilda immediately start interrogating a hapless Gilbert behind her.

When she bursts into the dining hall, Dimitri, Claude, Ferdinand, and Felix are gathered around the large table, papers spread over it. “You fucking idiots,” she says, more out of relief at having found them than anything. “I couldn’t find you.”

Dimitri looks up at her in concern. “Did Dedue not tell you we’d come down here? We left him in the conference room so if any of you came looking you’d know.”

“Dedue is currently unconscious,” she says crisply, and Dimitri’s face is immediately suffused with worry.

Felix is on his feet at once, standing beside her. “Are you all right?” he asks.

She smiles tiredly. “I’m fine. Dedue less so.”

“Will he… ah, will he recover?” Ferdinand asks, looking appalled to have to ask such a question.

“I think so. Hapi is healing him, but I should go back and check.” She sighs, and leans on Felix’s shoulder for just a moment. “Lock the doors after me, OK?” she adds. “And just… be on your guard.”

He nods seriously. “Where is everyone else?” he asks.

“Hapi and Sylvain are with Dedue, Gilbert and Hilda are in the entrance hall. I assume Ingrid and Ashe are still asleep?”

Felix nods. “Who—do you think someone got in after all?”

Byleth shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I’m going to try to find out.”

He nods, and in an uncharacteristically open display of affection, pulls her into a brief hug. “Be careful,” he mutters in her ear.

She nods, and with a brief wave to the others heads back up to the conference room. On the way there, though, she comes across Hapi and Sylvain, awkwardly manoeuvring Dedue’s still unconscious body down the stairs. She takes one of his shoulders, and together they get him into one of the bedrooms and into a bed. Ashe stumbles blearily out of his room as they pass, and his eyes widen abruptly when he sees them.

“Oh goddess!” he exclaims. “What happened?”

“Someone attacked him, we think,” Sylvain says grimly.

Ashe pales. “Is he OK?”

“He’ll be fine,” Hapi says. “I think. I’m going to try to wake him up in a moment, but he’ll have a hell of a headache.”

“Oh! I know a good tea for headaches,” Ashe says, brightening a little at the thought of being able to help. “Should I go make some for him?”

“Thanks, Ashe,” Byleth says. “That would be good.”

He hurries out, and Hapi looks warily at Byleth. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asks.

Byleth frowns. “Why would it not be?”

“We still don’t know who attacked Dedue. I hate to say it, but… what if it was someone here?”

“Surely it’s more likely someone got in?” Sylvain interjects.

“In this weather?” Hapi arches an eyebrow.

He shrugs. “Or maybe someone didn’t leave yesterday when they were meant to. That seems a lot more sensible than assuming _Ashe_ did it.”

“Nobody stuck around,” Hapi replies grimly. “Hilda and I did that whole sweep.”

“How thorough were you?” Byleth asks cautiously.

Hapi lifts one eyebrow. “ _Very_ thorough, Chatterbox.”

“That’s… not good.” Sylvain says weakly, and she rolls her eyes.

“And didn’t you check on ways someone could get in yesterday, anyway?” Hapi continues.

Byleth nods. “All the walls are practically impossible to scale from the outside, and we had all the doors and windows barred as best we could.”

“Well, I suggest,” Sylvain says, “That we check that everything’s still locked up before we jump to any conclusions about our friends?”

“I suppose…” Hapi begins, then trails off. “Constance had this spell she was developing for counting all the people in a place. Makes them show up on a plan or something, she wanted to use it for something in Nuvelle.”

“Did she tell you how to do it?” Byleth asks eagerly.

“Yeah, but it’s meant for towns, not just one castle. But I guess we could adapt it.”

“I can help,” Sylvain offers, looking far more serious than usual.

Byleth nods. “Good. Anyway, though, it might be unnecessary. Dedue might just be able to tell us.”

“I’m sorry, but if there’s an assassin wandering around, I doubt they’d leave him alive if he knew who they were,” Sylvain says grimly.

Hapi shrugs. “Probably.” She looks at Byleth, and rubs her hands together. “Ready?”

The two of them place a hand on each of Dedue’s temples, and the white glow of healing magic encircles his head for a moment. Then, abruptly, it dissipates, and Dedue is blinking his eyes open.

“What happened?” he asks slowly, looking around at the three of them.

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” Sylvain says.

Dedue frowns, and pushes himself up into a half-seated position. “Is his Majesty all right?” he asks quickly.

“He’s fine, Dedue,” Byleth says. “We’re more worried about you.”

He sighs, and collapses back into the bed. “I don’t really know what happened,” he says. “I was sitting in the conference room, and I believe I was hit on the back of the head first. Someone must have got in without my hearing, and they pushed my head onto the table and asked me where the king was.”

“Did you see who? Or hear?” Byleth asks.

His shakes his head regretfully, then winces. “No. A man, though, probably? A fairly low voice, at least. I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t think I really can say much about it.”

“It’s OK,” Sylvain cuts in. “Look, we’ll leave you to rest, then. I think Ashe is on his way with some tea for you.”

Dedue gives a weak smile back, as Sylvain pulls Hapi and Byleth over to the other side of the room.

“Hiding his face from Dedue,” Hapi comments. “That suggests someone inside the castle to me.”

Byleth frowns. “The problem with that, though, is that we specifically only had people stay who could be trusted.”

“Because nobody is corruptible,” Hapi says cynically.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Sylvain interrupts. “Look, we can get started on adapting that spell, then we’ll know for sure. In the meantime, is there anything else we can work out?”

Byleth sighs, and rubs at her temples. “We should check on what everyone was doing this morning. Whether they were all together, that sort of thing. Just in case it is one of us.”

“At least that means we can rule out the three of us, right?” Sylvain adds. “We’ve been in the same place for hours.”

Hapi nods. “The wound on Dedue’s head wasn’t brand new, but he couldn’t have been there long.”

They begin to traipse back down to rejoin everyone else.

“Again, I hate to say it,” Hapi says, “But I’ve gotta say, Ingrid and Ashe were supposedly asleep. That’s no alibi.”

The prospect of alibis only gets slimmer when they go back to the negotiating party, and find out that they’d all scattered for a break an hour or so ago, each of them wandering off to find bathrooms, or tea, or whatever. The only ones who had stuck together were Felix and Dimitri. Despite knowing that it _couldn’t_ have been Felix, it nonetheless eases something in her chest that he has a definitive alibi. But nobody else is so lucky.

  


* * *

  


Lunch is a solemn affair. With Dedue still indisposed, Ashe has taken over the cooking, though it’s no less delicious than what Dedue has produced for their last few meals. They sit around the table in tense silence, eating soup that is far too wonderful for any of their current moods.

Ferdinand is the one to break it eventually. “Are we planning to continue the talks once we are finished?” he asks, an odd mixture of bright and cautious.

Claude shrugs. “I suppose we might as well make some more progress,” he says. “It’s not like we have much else to do.”

The sharp, horrible noise of a chair being pushed back across the stone floor makes them all wince. “Forgive me,” Dimitri says, jaw set. “ I am going to check on Dedue.” Then he strides out of the hall, shoulders hunched.

Felix sighs. “I’ll go after him,” he says reluctantly. He probably shouldn’t be left alone.”

He brushes a hand over Byleth’s hair as he passes her, then is gone.

“Well, I guess that means no trade talks!” Hilda says cheerily.

The rest of the meal is mostly spent planning out a new guard schedule for Dimitri—Gilbert will take over from Felix, then Ashe and Ingrid for the night again. Once they are all pitching in to clear the table and wash the dishes, Byleth pulls Hapi and Sylvain aside.

“How’s the spell?” she asks in an undertone.

“Not bad, Chatterbox,” Hapi says laconically. “We’ll have it done soon.”

“Good,” she says. “Because I’m tired of not knowing.”

It takes them another hour of hasty checks and calculations, to be precise, which mostly look like gibberish to Byleth. The spells she knows were more learned by rote and concerted effort, not understanding of the principles, a flash of pride at her former students’ accomplishments overtakes her. It dissipates quickly, though, and she does her best to check over their work.

“We need a plan of the castle,” Hapi says. “Did you manage to get one?”

Byleth nods. “Hilda found me one. Reluctantly, but she found it.”

They spread the plan, which is really several sheets of paper hastily tacked together, over a wide table in the library, and Hapi and Sylvain cast the spell together. It’s anti-climactic for how work they put into it, and the sigils they form in the air disappear quickly. There’s nothing for a long moment, and Byleth’s heart begins to sink in her chest.

Then suddenly a soft glow begins to emanate from the plans, and Sylvain grins across the table at Hapi. Little lights have appeared in various portions of the castle.

“Count them,” Byleth orders briskly, and then begins doing so herself. “There are twelve of us.” She finds the three in the library that represent them, then two at opposite ends of Dimitri’s rooms that must be him and Felix. Dedue is down the corridor, someone else apparently sitting with him—Ashe, perhaps? That comes to seven.

On the lower floor, the other dots are all clustered together, still sat in the dining hall. Claude, Ferdinand, Hilda, Ingrid, Gilbert. That’s all of them. She casts wildly around the map for any further points of light, but there are none.

“How many do you see?” she says grimly.

“Twelve,” Sylvain says, and Hapi nods. “Shit. So it is one of us?”

Hapi, to her credit, doesn’t rub it in. “Guess so,” is all she says.

Byleth slumps into a chair and pushes her hands through her hair. “OK. OK,” she says. “Let’s think about this logically.”

“I don’t think there’s much logic to be applied here, frankly,” Sylvain says, his face set.

“Everyone here,” Byleth says, looking up at him, “Is someone we have known for _years_. I thought we could trust them all. Except that someone has fucking _attacked_ Dedue. I am in dire need of some logic, please, Sylvain.”

Hapi suddenly pales. “Oh,” she says. “I just thought of something.”

Byleth turns to look at her, and she worries her lip for a moment.

“Since the end of the war,” she begins, “I’ve been looking into Cornelia. Her past, her work, all that stuff. Mostly going through her papers, trying to work out what she did to me. And you know how we thought she was an imposter? I found… well, it’s hard to explain, but a whole load of stuff about how they were doing that. And I think she was working on replacing more and more people. So what if—”

Sylvain finished for her, voice sounding dead. “What if they replaced one of us. Well, at least that’s slightly better than one of us being a traitor.”

“You found her papers? Oh, shit,” Byleth says, and stands up. “Hapi, you need to tell me everything you found the moment you’re back in Fhirdiad.”

Hapi frowns, but nods. “You know something about this, Chatterbox?”

Byleth begins to pace back and forth, then sighs. “This information is not to leave this room,” she says seriously, and looked pointedly at the other two until they nodded.

“For the last few years,” she begins, “Seteth and I have been attempting to track down the force of dark mages that were working with Edelgard during the war.”

“I thought they’d disappeared when she died?” Sylvain interrupts, and Byleth shoots him a quelling look that she’d learned from Felix.

“Not completely. The attack I told you about, where we captured the one who let slip the assassination? That was from a concerted attack we made, based on some intelligence about one of their bases. Not a random thing at all. And these are the people who were being sent as replacements.”

“I don’t get it, though,” Hapi says. “We always knew Cornelia was working with Edelgard.”

Byleth sighs. “I know. But the point is, there’s a lot more of them than we thought during the war. And the part you brought up, about imposters? That’s why we’ve kept this so quiet. We don’t know what spies they might have.”

“But you’re trusting us?” Sylvain says, and grins. “I feel lucky. Does Felix know?”

“Of course he does. And I’m serious, Sylvain. You can’t mention this to anyone.”

His face sobers. “I know. Don’t worry, I am capable of being serious.”

Byleth smiles. “I know,” she says fondly. “Anyway, we’ve got off the point. The important part is that if we’re dealing with one of them pretending to be one us? It’s a hell of a lot more serious than a single assassin.”

“How do they do it?” Sylvain asks. “The replacing thing, I mean?”

“Well, we don’t know much about how,” Byleth says. “But I’m guessing the stuff Hapi found might help there?”

She nods. “But I don’t think I can remember much about it,” she says, twisting her mouth. “It wasn’t really what I was looking for. There was something about speeding the process up, I think? Not sure what else.”

“That would make sense,” Byleth says grimly. “The common thread with everyone we know was a replacement was that they went missing, or were away from where they usually are for some time, and came back acting different.”

“Not all of them,” Sylvain objects. “Tomas, remember? Or Solon, whatever. He seemed like a totally normal librarian.”

“Yes. And that’s why we were being so cautious,” Byleth said. “It probably just depends on how much they know, and how good an actor they are. So if it’s someone good, we might never know.”

Hapi catches on. “But the disappearing bit they can’t hide, right?”

Byleth nods. “Exactly. The only problem is that we don’t really know how long it takes. Tomas was gone for seven years, but Monica was only missing for one. And if Cornelia was trying to speed it up? They might not need all that much time any more.”

“Has anyone here been unaccounted for for a while?” Sylvain asks, leaning back in his chair. “I hate to say it, but we haven’t seen Claude in years.”

“I don’t think they care too much about Almyra, honestly,” Byleth says. “And anyway, even if we haven’t seen him, I’m pretty sure he and Dimitri have been communicating regularly ever since he left Fódlan.”

Sylvain nods. “Hilda?”

“Possible,” Byleth says slowly. “I haven’t kept a close eye on what she’s been doing here in Goneril. There might well be a chunk of missing time we just never heard about.”

“I don’t think either of us have gone more than a month or so without seeing Felix in years,” Sylvain continues, reaching across the table for a piece of paper to start jotting things down on. “So I don’t think it can be him.”

Hapi steals the paper from him. “My handwriting is neater,” she says, and starts scribbling a list. Her handwriting is not neater. “What about Ashe and Ingrid? I know they were both away from Fhirdiad for a while after the war.”

“Ingrid would be hard to impersonate, no?” Byleth says. “Sylvain, you’ve known her the longest, any chance it might not be her.”

“No way,” he says. “She’s too… Ingrid. And anyway, they were both visiting their families, that isn’t disappearing.”

“Well, we know from Count Galatea that Ingrid was definitely there,” Byleth muses. “But I suppose we don’t actually know for certain Ashe was with his family the whole time he was in Gaspard.” She sighs. “I think it’s unlikely, but I suppose it’s possible.”

Hapi shakes her head. “That doesn’t make sense,” she says. “Claude or Hilda waiting till now to assassinate Dimitri, maybe, but Ashe? Ingrid? They’re around him every day. They don’t need to wait till now to kill him.”

“Killing him isn’t the point, though,” Byleth says. “He’s just one king. They aren’t really concerned about him.”

“Oh,” Sylvain says. “The negotiations. If Dimitri gets killed in the middle of a bunch of Almyrans, half of Leicester is going to want a war immediately.”

Byleth nods. “Exactly.”

“OK,” Hapi says, screwing her eyes shut and looking like she’s resisting the urge to sigh. “That’s Claude and Ashe for unlikely but possible, and Hilda for maybe. Who else?”

“Dedue’s out because of the whole, you know, getting knocked out thing,” Sylvain says. “But even if he hadn’t been, I don’t think he’s left Dimitri’s side since... well, since we thought he was dead, I suppose.”

Byleth nods again. “Ferdinand? He’s been fairly politically prominent, I guess, but might there have been some time where he wasn’t actually around?”

Sylvain nods slowly. “Another maybe, I think. Who’s left? Other than us.”

Hapi scribbles another list down the side of her page. “Us two, you, chatterbox, Ingrid, Freckles, Dimi, Ferdinand, Claude, Hilda... Gilbert? I think that’s it.”

“He’s been in Fhirdiad since the war, too, I think,” Byleth says.

Sylvain nods. “Yeah, except for when he went back to Dominic for a couple of months, I don’t think he’s left Dimitri either.”

Byleth frowns. “When did he go back to Dominic?” she asks sharply.

He shrugs. “Last year, I guess? Why?”

“And he was gone a couple of months?”

Another nod, more cautious this time.

“Because when Annette last wrote to me,” Byleth says slowly, “She was begging me to ask him to go back for Saint Cichol’s day, because last time he left after only a couple of days.”

Sylvain inhales sharply. “He was gone for at least three months.”

Hapi turns pale. “Oh, _shit_ ,” she says, and drops her pen. “He’s taking over Dimitri’s guard duty this afternoon.”

“Let’s go,” Byleth says, already on her feet and racing for the door.

They’re not far from Dimitri’s rooms, but their mad dash still feels like it takes far too long. It’s a couple of staircases, a couple of corridors, and several sharp turns, but soon Byleth is shaking the doors to Dimitri’s suite.

“Locked,” she says curtly. “Step back.”

Sylvain and Hapi stay obediently to the side as Byleth sizes up the double doors. She turns sideways, crouches slightly, and then plants a solid kick on the point where they join. There’s a sharp splintering _crack_ , but they don’t quite open. She frowns.

“Do you think they’re still in there?” Byleth asks anxiously.

Sylvain’s face is uncharacteristically grim. “I don’t know where else they might have gone,” he says, and then copies Byleth’s kick manoeuvre on the door. The three of them run into the sitting room. It’s entirely empty—no guards, nothing.

“Bedroom,” Sylvain says. The door to the next room is hanging loosely open, the lock splintered much like the main doors now are.

Byleth runs towards it. “Felix?” she calls desperately. “Dimitri?”

“Crap,” Hapi says, following her in, and looking around the empty room. “Where did they go.”

Sylvain is by the window, and he throws it open. “Oh, goddess. He must have taken them out of the window.”

“Why the hell would he do that?” Byleth asks.

He shrugs. “I don’t know, but look at this,” he says, and hauls up a long length of cloth that’s tied around the central iron strut of the window frame.

Hapi snorts. “Seriously? Tying together sheets? I didn’t think anybody actually did that.”

Byleth is already leaning fully out of the window, scanning the gardens intently. “I see tracks,” she says, and slings one leg over the windowsill. “I’m going after them.”

“Goddess, Byleth, let’s just go down and out of the door!” Sylvain exclaims.

“You go,” she says, and musters a grin. “This way’s faster.” And then she’s sliding roughly down the makeshift rope, feet flat against the stone walls for balance.

Faintly above her she hears Sylvain and Hapi cursing, but she tunes it out. The sheets end several feet above the ground, and she grimaces as she nears the bottom, then grits her teeth. She drops the final section, landing in the snow crouched low, almost cat-like. The footmarks in the snow are confused, but there’s a clear collection heading towards the trees at the rear of the gardens. Byleth sprints towards them.

As she draws close, she hears voices, and slows to creep through the trees.

“Put down your weapon,” a cold voice is saying, “Or I will slit his throat right here, right now.”

Peering out from behind a tree, Byleth sees Gilbert standing there, one arm firmly around Felix’s chest, the other holding a knife to his throat. Dimitri stands facing them, holding a dagger in trembling fingers. A shiver runs down her spine, and she draws her sword. But apparently she’s not quiet enough, because Gilbert’s head jerks around to face her at the faint swish of steel.

“Show yourself,” he barks out. “ _Now_.”

Byleth sighs, and steps out from behind her tree. “Let go of him,” she says, and she’s impressed by how even her own voice manages to be.

Gilbert sneers, and the expression is so utterly _wrong_ on his face that it feels like a bucket of cold water over Byleth’s head. It’s not as though she’d ever exactly liked Gilbert, but still—how had she not known? This man in front of her is nothing like the man she’d fought with during the war.

“You too,” he says. “Put your weapons down, both of you, or I kill little Fraldarius here.”

“Please,” Dimitri gasps out. “Don’t hurt him. Look—I’ll go, you can have—”

He doesn’t get any further before Felix interrupts. “Don’t you fucking _dare_ , boar,” he snarls.

Dimitri’s face is desolate. “You don’t deserve this, Felix,” he says, voice somehow soft and haunted, even now. “Enough of your family has died for mine. I won’t let you be another.”

Not-Gilbert laughs, then, cruel and hard. “Put the dagger down, then, boy,” he says.

Byleth has been staring intently at Felix, and he finally catches her eyes. She lifts her brows just slightly, and he gives an almost imperceptible nod.

She steps forward, places a calming hand on Dimitri’s arm. “I don’t think any of this is necessary,” she says, in her best calm archbishop voice. Another step, closer to Gilbert. He flinches, and she sees a bead of blood rise on Felix’s pale skin. He’s watching her sword intently, ready to spring away at the slightest hint of movement from her.

_Hold your nerve_ , she thinks, and holds out her non-sword hand placatingly. “It’s all right. Dimitri, you can step back. Nothing bad needs to happen here, especially not when I say—NOW!”

She ends on a shout, and she thrusts her hand forward sharply, hurling a fire spell straight at Gilbert’s side. At the same time, Felix’s head crashes back and into Gilbert’s nose. There’s a howl of pain, and Felix is dropping to the ground and rolling away just in time for Byleth’s fireball to fly over his head.

Gilbert goes stumbling backwards, and then Byleth is on him, sword flying. In no time at all, he’s flat on his back in the snow, her sword at his throat.

“Felix,” she says calmly. “Could you find me something to tie him up with?”

She can’t see his face, but she can hear the cold satisfaction in his voice as clearly as if she could. “With pleasure,” he says.

Felix is just turning one of his belts into temporary restraints when there are thudding footfalls approaching through the trees.

“Did we miss all the action?” Sylvain asks, sounding disappointed, then yelps. Hapi must have elbowed him.

“Good work, Chatterbox,” she says approvingly. “That was fast.”

Byleth shrugs. “I’m surprised Felix needed me to get out of it, really,” she comments.

He glares up at her as he finishes securing not-Gilbert. “I would have,” he says grumpily.

There’s an enraged snarl from by his feet as he stands again. “You would not have,” Gilbert spits, then turns his gaze to Byleth. “You _bitch_ , you fucked it all up. You and your—”

He’s cut off as Byleth removes her sword from his neck to slice off the corner of his cloak, and then stuffs it in his mouth. The look on his face is comically enraged, and Felix snorts beside her.

There are more shouts, then, and Hilda, Claude, and Ingrid all come crashing through the trees. The hubbub of conversation and explanation quickly overtakes the group, and Byleth sighs, leaning into Felix’s side.

“Are you all right?” she asks softly.

He frowns. “Of course.”

“Why did he even bring you out here, anyway?”

Felix scowls at that. “He didn’t. I came into Dimitri’s rooms just as Gilbert was trying to attack him, and we ended up hiding in the bedroom. But the only place to go from there was through the window, and he was breaking down the door.”

“I saw,” she replied dryly. “I think Hilda’s going to be very angry with all the doors we broke today.”

“She can live with it,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, we climbed down here, but Dimitri twisted his ankle jumping down, and he caught up with us. Dragged us back here so we wouldn’t be so visible from the castle.”

Byleth nods. “It’s not a bad plan,” she admits grudgingly.

“But he didn’t account for you,” Felix says, face still tight and drawn despite the tenderness of his words.

“It wasn’t really me,” she says. “Hapi was the one who really worked it out.”

“Huh,” Felix says, turning to look at her in surprise. She’s standing by Sylvain, arms crossed, looking bored and surprisingly indifferent to the cold. Then he shakes his head. “Anyway, I—I ought to thank you, I suppose.”

She frowns back at him. “What else was I going to do? Let him kill you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. But… it felt a bit closer than I’d like, for a minute before you got here.”

Byleth steps in close to him, and grins. One hand reaches up to slide into his hair. “What am I here for,” she says affectionately, “If not to save your arse, Fraldarius.”

Felix scowls back at her, but when she pulls him down into a kiss, he goes easily.

“Next time,” he mutters against her mouth. “I’ll save yours. You’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> Look, you said I could include Gilbert if I was mean to him. I hope that counted. Merry Christmas!!


End file.
